Metrosexual Cowboy

Keith Urban is the musical equivalent of your average big-box Texas suburb—bland, slick and lifeless—which is why soccer moms in Frisco, Plano and Allen love him and want to have his half-Australian babies. It's almost like he was created in a laboratory (and come to think of it, that's pretty much what Nashville is). Perfect blond surfer locks—check. Catchy, focus group-approved hooks—check. Hot Hollywood wife rescued from a post-Scientology fallout—check. Foreign-but-still-lily-white pedigree—check. Banal lyrics that pull on the heartstrings without saying much of anything—check. Perfectly sculpted stubble straight out of a Norelco commercial—check. Thankfully, for those of us that enjoy reading the Betty Ford news wire, the careful market scripting of Urban's career also resulted in one nasty cocaine habit and a continuing battle with alcoholism. But hey, if we woke up one day and discovered we were basically Phil Collins with a banjo player, we might feel like a drink, or 60, too. Keith Urban takes the stage 8 p.m. Friday at the American Airlines Center. Tickets are $45 to $55. Visit
Fri., July 6, 8 p.m.


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